


Harry Potter and the What If

by Birdinthecage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multiverse, blatant disregard for jkr, its what i like to call Self Fan Service, meaning you literally are not at all obligated to read if you dont want to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:06:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdinthecage/pseuds/Birdinthecage
Summary: A mysterious group of people REALLY hate the Harry Potter series, so much so that they go to the fictional universe to try to kill Harry in the most uncanon ways possible to destroy the entire timeline. It is up to a biblically accurate angel to pretend to be a student and keep saving the important characters behind the scenes.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. A Distress Call

**Author's Note:**

> This series is mostly just writing practice for me so basically. if there's continuity errors I'm sorry I guess. It has a couple details from my own original works so if you wanted purely HP then I am also sorry but you'd better read smth else. (there are plenty fics that are somewhat similar to this that are a lot better im sure) so basically uh read at your own risk. That being said I always welcome constructive criticism. my biggest concerns are that this fic be entertaining and fun.

I was in the middle of settling a dispute when I got the distress call.   
Seriously. I thought my day job would have been a little more, ya know, dignified. But for most of the week I was stuck stopping gangs from doing stupid shit to each other. It's even more embarrassing that I'm related to a lot of these fucks. Today I was busy calming down a livid angel, a distant, much younger cousin of mine. They had accidentally knocked over a fruit stand, so the vendor had retaliated by holding them down and taking a piss.   
"Did you tell him it's your body and that you don't want to be peed on?" I asked them.   
"Yes, seconds before he PEED on me!" they responded tearfully.   
I had seven humanoid faces today. The three faces my cousin could see were soft with sympathy (sincere sympathy, by the way. I have very unfortunate firsthand experience in being peed on by various animals). The other four faces, however, were trying not to laugh.   
I was going to tell them to avoid any fruit stands in the future when my sister materialized behind me. She was looking mostly human today, with long silver hair and three blue-green eyes locked in a vacant expression. "Gabriel. I think you need to see this. An entire universe is calling."   
That got my attention. Usually it was individual people asking for our family's very specialized help. Rarely an entire universe. "Sorry, Ez, but I have to take this one. See ya later, but remember what I said about avoiding fruit stands."  
I headed to Headquarters with my sister. The family's HQ really is beautiful: moving stained glass walls, tiny stars serving as light fixtures, a mosaic floor with blue tiles written in a language only angels can understand. In the middle of the room my sister led me to, a large leather-bound book lay open. On the left page, a large block of looping text, seemingly random numbers and letters. The opposite page, though, was what caught my attention: an illustration of a battlefield. I could tell because I'd been in a few myself. This battle looked more like a massacre than a real fight, however. Bodies were strewn on the ground like discarded dolls. Looking closely, I saw several familiar faces among the lifeless corpses. Two bodies made all seven of my jaws drop. Those round glasses and black hair were unmistakable. The body lying next to him, though...it was hard to see his face clearly through the stream of blood running down it, but I had a good idea who it was from the shine of his platinum blond hair. One more thing, though...  
Oh, fuck.   
Draco was still clutching a knife. A knife that had found itself buried in Harry Potter's chest.   
"That's definitely not supposed to happen," I whispered. My sister nodded gravely. Wanting answers, I turned to the text on the left page. To anyone else it would have been pure gibberish, but I have a handy little ability to sneak meaning from any code. The call was from one of the realities from the Multiverse in which the Harry Potter series takes place. Too many mouths, too many eyes, the words said. People are here who do not belong. The snake, the rodent, the lion have all died too early. Start from the beginning. start somewhere good.   
I looked up. "Uri, I think this one will take a while. I'm gonna have to pay a much-needed visit to Hogwarts."


	2. Disguises, Disguises

Being human sucks.   
There's literally no other accurate way to put it. Y'all have only got one mouth, two eyes, absolutely horrid hearing and sight, and worst of all, not a single human has wings. It's no fun being stuck on the ground. But if I were to do my job correctly. I'd have to forfeit the wings for a good long while. Luckily, the upside is occasionally humans get to look pretty.   
"That's an awful lot of hair," my brother remarked.   
"It's called style, shut up," I replied, wrangling a mountain of black hair into a ponytail. "There. Do I look human enough?"  
"You look a lot like when you actually were a human."   
It's actually exactly what I was going for. Attention-grabbing things: pale skin to contrast dark hair, thick brows, and eyes the kind of blue that looks through people instead of at them. Loud features paired with a loud personality to help distract the Hogwarts students from the fact that I'm not one of them, that my owl is not an owl at all. Step one of the plan: assimilate myself into the culture, case the joint, find out what's really going on. The only catch--this is going to take a long time.   
"Hey," my brother put his hand on my shoulder. "You still haven't told me how long you're gonna be gone. Is that because I won't like the answer?"  
That was precisely why I had been putting it off. I sighed. "Anywhere from a year to 7 years. Maybe even more. I wouldn't do it if I absolutely had to--I promise!" I added hastily when expression turned to one of angry shock. "I'll call you at every single opportunity. You call me whenever there's a problem you can't handle." And I would. Well, I would try to.   
He relented. "Okay, fine. I still wish I could go with you."  
I smiled. It had been a good long time since I'd smiled with a human-looking face. "I'll miss you too. But it's time to go save some lives."  
Going to different universes used to be exhilarating. But after a few traumatic events far from home, the process had lost its luster. I made my way back to HQ, reciting my cover story as I went. "My name is Lilith Diana Evren. I was born December 7, 1980. Both of my parents are wizards. My mother, Pepper, is from just outside London but my father, Jericho, is from Mississippi. I most look forward to Transfiguration. I hope I'm in Slytherin." Only the last sentence was actually true. I'd thought and thought about it, and the best way to get into the thick of it without being noticed too much would be in Slytherin.   
My farewell party was waiting for me. Several brothers, sisters, and siblings of various genders as well as a few trusted friends. A lot of long hugs and handshakes later, I placed my hands on the books and said, "Archangel Gabriel answering Distress Call 388572857. I'm on my way."   
Before I could finish the word 'way', I suddenly found myself on a busy street in the middle of London, the book no longer in my hands. Looking around, I saw I was just outside the Leaky Cauldron.   
A wave of excitement wove its way through my veins. I was surprised. For the first time in a while, I was perfectly happy to be someplace--and someone--I wasn't supposed to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Angel memory isn't as good as you think it is. You'd think that something made to last literally forever would have the ability to remember at least ninety percent of its life, right? But no. And we don't even have much control over what we remember--I know the lyrics to every single Russian song I've ever listened to, but there's an entire century of my life I know absolutely nothing about. I remember the scientific name of every species of cat, but still don't recall the names of every monster that wants to shatter me into a trillion celestial pieces. So you can see why I had to carry a copy of the original Harry Potter series with me and regularly consult it to make sure of all the things that are supposed to happen and when. All the more easier to spot the changes in the timeline, my dear.   
And so I sat alone at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, checking chapter five of The Philosopher's Stone. Tom the bartender had confirmed for me that it was in fact July 31, and after that no one paid me much attention. Any minute now Hagrid would come strolling in, itty bitty Harry in tow. I knew they hadn't arrived yet, because if they had, the whole pub would've been chattering about it. But the conversations were all bland remarks about Witch Weekly or dragon hide prices or what Cornelius Fudge supposedly said in The Quibbler. I spotted Quirrel and surreptitiously gave him the stink eye.   
About half an hour after I arrived, the conversations quickly dwindled as Hagrid walked in. I read the conversation as I heard it: "The usual, Hagrid?" "Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business." "Good Lord. Is this--can this be--?"  
A few extra long stretches of silence, and then everyone got up out of their chairs to shake Harry's hand. Not quite sure what to do with myself, I simply observed, and opted to smile and wave when Harry looked in my direction. Quirrel, by the way, was deer shit at faking a stutter. He sounded like a twelve year old trying to beatbox and not someone with a real speech problem.   
Ten or so minutes after Harry and Hagrid finally broke free from the tiny crowd and left, I got up to go to the courtyard in the back. As I was crossing the pub, I saw an odd person the book failed to mention: a frail young woman who seemed to blend in with the shadows as if she were one of them. Come to think of it, she hadn't gotten up to shake hands with Harry, she'd only stared at him with an almost hungry expression. I committed her face to my faulty memory and headed to Diagon Alley.   
I reached the courtyard and was about to count the bricks above the trashcan when I stopped, realizing I didn't have a wand. Internally muttering a string of curses that would make a sailor blush, I opted for my trusty halo. Odd little bit of Angel lore, but an angel can turn their halo into basically whatever we want: tools, weapons, animals even. Right now what I needed was something that looked like a wand, and that's what my halo became. For authenticity's sake I would get a wand from Ollivander later.   
The magical portal accepted my makeshift wand and let me into Diagon Alley.   
I knew I had a mission, but it was really hard not to get distracted every four seconds from the sights and sounds around me, especially the things JKR failed to mention: little newspaper boxes with headlines like Chudley Cannons Came This Close to Winning Again, or Witches in Sri Lanka Claim to Have Made an Immortality Potion; the smell of cinnamon wafting from Babbitt's Bakery; a radio somewhere in the distance playing Will You be the Beater to My Bludger?; a pair of Muggle parents looking at a Galleon as if it were a magnifying glass, saying "Oh, so it's worth about five pounds, I get it."   
I even stood outside the Gringotts doors, hands on hips, just to say that I'd seen it with my own two eyes. Universal Studios could never in their wildest dreams replicate this place as it actually was. But the point of being here in the first place was to save it. And I could only do that by heading to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions at exactly the right time. I went into the bookshop across the street, absentmindedly perusing broomstick manuals and picture books about Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump, all the while watching out for when Draco Malfoy would head into Madam Malkin's.   
"Don't you think you're a little young to be looking at that, dearie?" A tall wizard who smelled like he'd never heard of deodorant asked. I looked up and found out that wizards have their own genre of erotica at the same instant I remembered I was pretending to be eleven. I very cleverly replied, "Um." and went about my merry way.   
I had no choice but to head into Madam Malkin's. Funnily enough, Harry was just about to enter; I'd missed Draco coming in. Apprehension beaned me in the head just then: this would be the first instance of me actually changing the entire timeline permanently. I shook off the apprehension, reminding myself that whatever caused that distress call was fucking up the timeline way worse than I ever could. I mean sure, this prediction would one day prove to be very wrong in the future but it wasn't like I knew that at the time.   
Anyway, I smiled at the two kids in the shop with me. I swear it's like kids get smaller every time I see them. Harry looked like he recognized me from the Leaky Cauldron, but didn't say anything as the witches pinned robes to each of us.   
"Hello," Draco said, exactly as I had expected him to. "Hogwarts, too?"   
"Yes," Harry and I said in unison. I sort of cut Draco off before he could speak again. Controlling the conversation was going to be hard, and I needed to steer it in exactly the right direction. "What do you look forward to there? I really want to try my hand at Transfiguration, or maybe Potions, what about you?"   
"Quidditch," Draco said. "I'm a natural at it, if I do say so myself. Do you play Quidditch at all?"   
Harry said no with a rather bewildered look on his face.   
"I'm not so great with a broom myself, but my father used to play when he was in Ilvermorny and my mother was on the Slytherin team for a year or two," I said. "I'm Lilith, by the way, what are your names?"   
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he said, as if he thought himself James Bond or something.   
"Harry Potter," Harry said somewhat shyly. "I think I saw you back in the pub."   
Draco's jaw dropped. "Really? I heard you had to go live with Muggles. Could you imagine living without magic?"   
I, for one, did not have to imagine, but I digress.   
At that moment, Hagrid arrived in from of the shop doors, holding the ice creams I knew he would be. Not wanting them to talk about Hagrid, for fear of the conversation turning to old wizard prejudice, I said, "I heard they have dragons guarding the deepest Gringotts vaults, and this morning when I went down there to the family vault I thought I might've seen one going round a bend, but Mum says it was probably just my imagination. Speaking of, she said she would be here by now, I wonder where she's gone?"  
Just a minute or so more until Madam Malkin would finish fitting Harry and the conversation would be over for now. Draco didn't bother to hide a curious stare at Hagrid as he asked, "What do your parents do, then? What's your surname, anyway?"   
"Lilith Evren," I said, realizing a bit too late that my alias sounded a bit too much like Lily Evans. A complete coincidence, I swear. "My parents are both magical homicide detectives."   
Harry whispered a little "Oh, wow," the second that Madam Malkin said "That's you done, my dear." As the witches attending Draco and I finished up, I breezily said, "I'll be seeing you at Hogwarts, then!" and only once I had left the robe shop did I allow myself a sigh of relief. 

I had a feeling Ollivander knew I didn't quite belong. Or if he didn't know, he simply looked suspicious of everything I did and said for no reason. I ran into a serious problem almost immediately: Ollivander remembered every single wand he ever sold, and he never sold a want to my fake mother, who was supposed to have gone to Hogwarts around twenty years previous and was supposed to have bought a wand from this very shop. I was forced to do something I hated doing. I changed his memory to make him think he'd sold a wand to my fake mother all those years ago. Changing memories had always been uncomfortable to me, as if I were controlling people like puppets on strings.   
"Ah, yes, she had a cedar and dragon heartstring wand, twelve inches. Yes, yes. That's right," he said, although he still didn't look terribly sure of himself.   
I had to try a lot more wands than I thought I would. It looked like every wand in the shop had a sort of personal vendetta against me. It made, sense with me not being a human at all, but it still seemed pretty rude.   
"Not to worry, not to worry, there's bound to be a good match somewhere in here," Ollivander kept saying.   
Finally he pulled a wand from the very bottom of a pile of boxes (redwood, phoenix feather, ten inches) that actually responded to my touch. I know this sounds weird, but I formed a bond with that wand. When this mission was over and done I wanted to keep it, just for the sentimentality.   
I left the shop after paying seven Galleons (the equivalent of 50 US dollars, no wonder it took Ron so long to get a new wand when he broke his). I hurried to finish getting the rest of my supplies and walked back down Diagon Alley, booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron, and spent the rest of the night trying to commit all seven Harry Potter books to memory.


	4. [Insert Joke About Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train]

Rereading the original series really made me wonder how wizard society doesn't implode at least once a week. I asked myself, do wizards have free healthcare? What about taxes? The IRS, even? I had a month to wander around Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley and to peruse my schoolbooks, but after thirty-ish days talking to everyone and reading, I learned basically everything except what I wanted to know. Goblins were surprisingly vague about finances, and there were a lot of questions that only got replies along the lines of "go ask your parents." Of course, none of this was as important as nailing the very first day of Hogwarts--beginning with the Hogwarts Express.   
Early in the morning on September first, I headed out towards wherever the hell King's Cross was supposed to be. I started out long before the crack of dawn. Let's just say I have a nasty history with getting horribly lost. But after several hours of asking wizards and Muggles alike for directions and running several miles very fast, I ended up right where I needed to be. It was still 10:30, and Harry hadn't arrived at platform nine-and-three-quarters yet. What's important is that Harry and Ron sit together on the train and become friends. I scanned the platform, waiting until the Weasley's iconic hair could be seen. I tried to look as unsuspicious as possible while surveying Hermione Granger literally jumping for joy. I put some thin shitty blue headphones iconic to the 90s on and listened to a mix of traditional shape note singing and those pop songs that sound cool until they're played four thousand times on the radio. Once again, JKR left out details such as a kid I immediately assumed was Oliver Wood being extra careful not to whack his broom on the train door as he was entering, a kid's overstuffed trunk bursting open and spilling a wide assortment of multicolored socks all over the platform. As I went over to help the poor kid, I noticed her again--the girl at the Leaky Cauldron who hid in the shadows, now standing stiffly by the ticket stand. I froze. I had no idea if she was just a part of the world Harry hadn't noticed while being introduced to the wizarding world or if she truly didn't belong here any more than I did. I moved toward her, but at that moment the train whistle sounded. I stuffed my headphones in my pockets--wicked deep pockets, by the way, another thing JKR might've given me the heads-up about-- and dragged my trunk onto the train with everyone else.   
Inside the train, a shitload of teenagers tried to find someplace to sit in peace and quiet or fit into a compartment with their friends. I spotted a nearly-full compartment with Draco Malfoy and a bunch of soon-to-be Slytherins. I scored a seat right by the door.   
The talk was about average wizard kid subjects: Quidditch, rumors about Hogwarts, families, Hogwarts Houses. I listened vaguely whilst wondering about the nameless girl who kept showing up. I saw her get onto the train. In fact, she should've been in the compartment directly next to mine.   
While the other kids were talking about the newest brooms, I snuck a peek through the sliding door and saw her staring directly at me. She was completely alone in her compartment, and as she looked at me her expression steadily soured into one of hate. And not just any old hate, either. This was determined hate. She was on a mission, not particularly because she wanted to, but because she felt she had to.   
And she knew exactly who I was.   
I would've gotten up to speak directly to her because she was definitely who I was meant to be investigating in the first place, but none other than Draco Malfoy said, "Oi, Evren, what're looking at?"   
"Uhm, I heard Harry Potter was on the compartment next to us and wanted to check. He's not there, he must be farther up."   
"Evren and I saw Potter in a shop in Diagon Alley," Draco told the other kids. While he talked, I scribbled a simple question on a scrap of paper, shielding my hands best I could.   
I stood up. "Wanna go find him?"  
Draco was the first one up. Crabbe and Goyle, who seemed naturally predisposed to be suck-ups, stood up too. As we passed the compartment containing the mystery girl, I asked her if she knew where Harry was. She responded with a stiff shrug. I pretended to stumble, grabbing a seat for balance at the same instant I dropped the scrap paper onto the seat across from the girl. She was the only one who saw the action. Exactly as I intended.   
We found Harry a few compartments down, sharing candy with Ron. The following conversation happened before I could stop it: Draco making fun of Ron's family, Ron getting rightfully offended, Harry rejecting Draco, the beginnings of a fight. I halfheartedly warned, "Careful, there's a rat--" right as Scabbers the old man in disguise bit Goyle on the finger. I sighed and suggested we leave, passing Hermione on the way out. On the way back to our compartment, Mystery Girl was looking not at me but out the window. She was clutching my note.   
Settling back into the baby Slytherin compartment, I kept an eye on her the whole time. She didn't look back once.   
After that, I joined in the conversation a bit more, as I was supposed to be one of them. Hours later, as evening was falling, the train finally stopped. I noticed Mystery Girl moving through the crowd, slinking her way towards Harry and Ron. Curious and a little apprehensive, I followed her too, almost stepping on Trevor the toad in my haste.  
We'd reached the little boats to go across the lake. Mystery Girl was getting into the same boat as 2/3 of the golden trio. Of course, I climbed into the boat after them. Nothing happened till we were halfway across the lake. I'd kept my eye on this girl the whole time, but she just stared past the lake at the moon as if the moon were going to fall apart at any second.   
But then I looked down at her hands. Underneath her robes, she was holding a revolver, the tip of it pointed surreptitiously at Harry's back.   
She was still looking at the sky.


	5. Sorting Hats and Slytherins

Apologies for what has to be the single-dumbest plot twist in the history of literature.   
Guns are too easy, I thought. And too predictable. Who uses a gun in a place that has magic? Idiots, that's who.  
I simply grabbed the girl's hand and looked at her in a "the fuck do you think you're doing?" way. I had to wrestle a little for the gun with her, which made Harry look around at us curiously. I slipped the gun--a delicate little revolver--into the weirdly large pockets of the Hogwarts school robes.   
We passed through the dark tunnel and underground harbor as described in the book, and despite my fabricky school robes, I shivered at the damp breeze. Then I sort of spaced out as I thought about the circumstances of my life that led me to this tunnel where I "shivered at a damp breeze".   
Hagrid found Neville's toad, we all went up the flight of stone steps at the front of the castle and Hagrid knocked on the door. it opened, and Minerva McGonagall pulled it open wider. She looked a lot younger than she did in the movies. She explained the Houses to us, and left us alone in the chamber for a few minutes. The other first years stood around, nervously wondering about the Sorting. I worried that the hat would yell for Dumbledore to throw me out of the castle in a sack. I wondered about Mystery Girl and what the hat would say when she placed it on her head. I turned to look at her, but found that she'd disappeared on me again. Probably she'd done it when I was thinking about damp breezes. Those fuckin damp breezes. Always tripping up my missions to save a universe.   
At that moment, the ghosts arrived, phasing through the back wall in droves. They brought the room's temperature down by about ten degrees. If ever there were a damp breeze, it'd be around these guys. But enough about damp breezes.   
McGonagall returned, and we followed her through the hall into the Great Hall.   
I can never truly explain to you how trippy it is every time to read about a place and actually get to see it and interact with it. It's like when you go on a guided tour of the Alrath Galaxy with Helezenet the Great and you read about her and think, "oh, she can't be THAT great, humans haven't conquered a planet since 6047 in this universe," but then you meet here and you realize that there's no way she didn't assist in the Hagrat Rebellion. Never mind, that's a terrible analogy. What I mean is, looking at all the students of the Great Hall in a setting I'm familiar with only on a literary level and seeing them as the real people they are with real struggles and hopes and crushes and exams and passwords to their bank accounts, in a way I feel like a kid again. A girl that could only be Hermione whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside..." and I looked up, and there it was, the magical Great Hall ceiling.   
McGonagall brought out the hat, though from this angle it looked more like a thousand-year-old burlap sack made of sadness. Until it straightened up, opened its mouth, and immediately sang the Sorting Hat's 1991 song. And it actually sang it, in a sea-shantyish rhythm. When it was done, it bowed and McGonagall brought out the scroll with the student's names on it. I'd remembered to bewitch the scroll to have my name on it earlier, right between Millicent Bulstrode and Justin Finch-Fletchley.   
the other kids' legs were shaky and their breaths were shallow and fast as McGonagall read their names one by one. When she called out my alias, I emulated their body language so I wouldn't stand out to much, and crossed my fingers that the hat would accept my deal.   
I put the hat on my head, which fit snugly over my incredibly thick hair. "Interesting," was all the hat said for a while.  
"You gonna follow up on that, or...?" I asked the hat in my head. My definitely-not-a-human-child's head.   
"There is so much to look at in your mind, so many conflicting facets of personality: wit, courage, some kindness here and there, and a load of ambition. Interesting, finding out where you belong."  
"Dude. Just put me in Slytherin so I can save the school already."  
The hat shifted on my head. "Save the school, you say? That leaves Slytherin or Gryffindor."  
"Did you hear what I just said--well, thought, in your direction?"  
"Ooh a cheeky one. I saw a lot of that in your mind as well. I need some time to think on the best choice for someone so...full. But if you insist..."  
I almost gagged. "Never say 'full' in that context again," I muttered as the hat shouted "SLYTHERIN" to the Great Hall.   
I sat down at Slytherin table, satisfied. As relaxed a bit and the hat put Justin in Hufflepuff, I noticed Mystery Girl sitting at the table, staring blankly at the first years still waiting to be sorted. Nobody else seemed to notice her.   
The rest of the night was really boring. I tried to get Draco to sit by me but he sat on the opposite end of the table, too far away to have real conversation without shouting. The kids around me talked about Quidditch and how rich their families were and what potions they hoped Snape would teach them this year, and I tried my best to keep conversation with them. Dumbledore stood up and talked about rules and Quidditch trials and the third-floor corridor, then we all were led up to our separate dormitories by the prefects.   
We didn't sing the school song. No one even mentioned it. I don't know why it was in the books at all.   
The beds in the first year girl's dormitory were covered in thick green blankets and curtains with a subtle snake pattern. They were definitely comfortable enough to fall right to sleep in, but I kept thinking about the book that led me here and the two boys I was meant to save, and the fate I was meant to save them from.


End file.
